Why the Mockingjay Sings
by SongOnTheBreeze
Summary: Why does the mockingjay sing? Because she knows that, even after you lose everything, life still goes on. Maybe not the same as before, but it still goes on. / Just a little one-shot drabble. My first Hunger Games fic. VERY short. Please R and R.


Hello, SongOnTheBreeze here.

So, this is my first Hunger Games fan fiction. I usually write fics for Naruto, but, I've been feeling adventurous lately, so, I decided to post this one-shot that I've had in my files for awhile. It's set about ten years after the epilogue in Mockingjay.

I love to get reviews, negative or positive, so I'd very much appreciate it if you'd leave one.

Anyhow, enjoy!

Oh, and let's not forget the disclaimer: I do not, nor will I ever, own the Hunger Games trilogy, nor the song that is in this fic. Suzanne Collins does. So if you're mad at the author of Hunger Games, you can't sue me. So there.

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><p><em>Deep in the meadow, under the willow<br>A bed of grass, a soft green pillow  
><em>_Lay down your head, and close your sleepy eyes  
><em>_And when again they open, the sun will rise_

I still sing that old song.

It's still so fresh in my memory, just as it was all those years ago, when tiny, helpless Rue lay in my arms, the life bleeding out of her, oh, so slowly…

_Here it's safe, here it's warm  
><em>_Here the daisies guard you from every harm  
><em>_Here your dreams are sweet, and tomorrow brings them true  
><em>_Here is the place where I love you_

I still sing it, despite the wave of terror and sickness the words bring with it, despite the memories it carries, of mutts with human eyes, and the sight of dying children, lying in snow tinged with red. Despite the sound of screams from comrades left behind in the sewers that it brings to my ears…

I still sing it, on evenings like this, when a storm rages outside, and I stand, safe and warm, inside my house, washing dishes and keeping watch over the ghosts of District 12 through the kitchen window. There are many of them, after all.

Peeta knows about the song, about the visions it brings me. He asks me why I still sing it…

The sound of the TV comes from the other room, along with a small symphony of Peeta's snores, and the mutterings of our children, wondering whether or not they should draw on their father's face.

I finish the dishes and dry my hands on my apron before turning to the living room doorway, smiling as I take in the scene in front of me.

Peeta is fast asleep on the couch, his breathing slow and regular, interrupted only by the occasional snore that escapes his lips. It was always a wonder to me how he could fall asleep in front of a blaring TV like that without the slightest difficulty. I figured that it must be a male thing, since our son seemed to have inherited the same trait.

Speaking of our children, our daughter is balanced on the back of the couch, a black marker in her hand, the tip of which is poised above Peeta's upper lip. Her brother stands behind her, grinning from ear to ear, urging his sister to draw a mustache on their father's face.

She's hesitant, a look of apprehension on her face, but eventually gives in, lowering the marker closer to Peeta's face…

Without the slightest warning, Peeta's eyes flick open and he lets out a roar, shooting up off the couch and knocking the marker from our daughter's hand before grabbing her around the stomach and swinging her up onto his shoulder like he used to do with the sacks of flour he carried in his family's bakery.

Our son makes a run for it, giggling, but Peeta catches him up, too, and slings him across his other shoulder. He then proceeds to parade around the room, a wriggling, shrieking child over each shoulder, before all three of them collapse onto the couch, laughing.

I watch all this from the doorway, leaning my head against the frame, a small smile playing on my lips.

Peeta asks me why I still sing that song.

Why does the mockingjay still sing? Because she knows that, even after losing everything, life goes on, maybe not the same as it was before, but still, it goes on.

I move back into the kitchen to gaze out the window, just as the storm starts to recede and the skies open up to reveal a wonderful sunset. On the horizon, a rainbow appears.

Why does the mockingjay still sing? Because she knows that behind every storm there's a rainbow.

I smile again, then turn away from the window and hang my apron on the hook by the door, then head into the living room to my family, to join in the laughter.

_Here is the place where I love you_

In the fading light outside, a mockingjay flies by the window.

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><p>So, how was it? Good? Bad? Terrible? There's an easy way to tell me, you know. It's called a review. All you have to do is click on that little button down there. So, what are you waiting for? CLICK!<p> 


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